


Every (Kitchen) Fire Starts With a Spark

by misura



Category: The Rundown (2003)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Cooking, Domestic Bliss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Look," Travis said, sensing blood in the water, "you do romantic stuff for me all the time, okay?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every (Kitchen) Fire Starts With a Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozsaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/gifts).



It was Travis's idea, which in Beck's book did not bode well. Worse: Beck sort of liked it, which was to say that it seemed nice. Safe. Not likely to get them both killed and/or scarred for life, emotionally or otherwise.

"Look," Travis said, sensing blood in the water, "you do romantic stuff for me all the time, okay? Honestly, it's just the tiniest bit embarrassing sometimes. I mean, I'm not a girl or anything."

"I know you're not a girl," Beck said, tackling the silliest argument first.

His mistake, of course: it left Travis a free field to run with his other arguments.

"I know you know I'm not a girl. I mean, heh." Travis waggled his eyebrows. "No problems with your short-term memory, am I right or am I right? So, what do you say, big boy?"

Beck considered. There had to be a downside, a disaster lurking around the corner. This was Travis, after all. An earnest Travis who apparently wanted to be romantic, but still.

"You break it, you replace it," he said. "You burn it, you eat it."

Travis slapped him on the shoulder. "This is going to be great!"

Not agreeing to anything re: the breaking and/or the burning, Beck couldn't help but notice.

 

Travis was ... not a homebody. He was used to traveling, and traveling lightly. Beck didn't think of himself as sentimental or overly concerned with home decoration, but there was spartan (or, as Beck liked to call it, 'tasteful') and then there was, well, Travis.

"A bag under the bed is _not_ the same as personalizing your room," Beck said, the second month after Travis had moved in with him for reasons that had seemed a lot more valid at the time than they did now.

(Granted, 'it's easier to keep a guy out of trouble when you know where he sleeps' still applied.)

"It's a very _pretty_ bag," Travis said. "Or, well, I think so."

Beck considered _not_ starting the day with another argument. He'd probably feel weird about that all day, though; it simply wouldn't be worth it. "You already packed it, didn't you?"

"Aw, Beck." Travis looked genuinely remorseful for all of two seconds. Three, tops. "It's always packed. Mostly because I never unpacked it - except for a couple of clothes I don't like that much anyway. Doesn't mean I'm going to do a runner any day soon, if that's what you're worrying about."

"It doesn't exactly inspire a lot of confidence that you're _not_ going to do a runner, either."

Travis shrugged and poured himself another bowl of Loopy Fruits. "Can't stand the heat, don't get close to this fine, hot body here, big boy."

"It's not _that_ hot," Beck said, finishing his coffee. Knowing he was going to be paying for that parting shot later tonight, and sort of looking forwards to that, in spite of himself.

 

And now here they were, third month running, with the Lakers looking like they might be having a pretty good year, and Travis complaining about Beck being a romantic _and_ declaring his intentions to be romantic right back at him in the same breath.

There was a poster of an angry-looking monkey hanging on the wall of Travis's bedroom, too, and Beck thought a couple more shirts and pairs of pants had moved from the bag under the bed to the closet.

"So what's the menu going to be, if you don't mind my asking?"

"What if I do mind?" Travis asked. "I mean, whoa. Getting a bit personal here, aren't we? You know, I have feelings, too. I have a right to my privacy."

Beck sighed. "So what I'm hearing is, it's a surprise."

"A secret," Travis corrected. "Things that are private are called 'secrets'. Not surprises."

"All right. No problem. Just thought I'd check if you needed any help with the ingredients. You know, if you need them fresh, I can recommend a couple of places I use for the restaurant."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm on to you."

Beck mentally went over his shopping list for tomorrow. He'd close up early, give Travis a couple of hours on his own in the kitchen. Pray, a lot. It might all go swimmingly. Miracles did happen, after all.

"I look forwards to it," he said. "Really. It's a nice thing for you to do."

"Well, relationships are all about doing nice things for the other guy, right?" Travis looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not that this means we're in a relationship."

"Of course not. I mean, perish the thought."

 

Travis's words notwithstanding, they _were_ in a relationship, of course. A reasonably healthy one, even, or so Beck liked to think. They argued, sure, but so did every couple.

They had a lot of make-up sex, although Travis probably wouldn't call it that. Beck didn't like to think of it as their having angry sex, though - they were having sex, they weren't arguing, ergo, they'd made up.

Giving Travis something else to do with his mouth than talk helped, too.

And sure, it wasn't always easy, managing the restaurant. There were good days and bad days, as in any other job. Beck really enjoyed the good days, though, and he didn't mind the bad days as much anymore when he came home to find Travis curled up in front of the TV, waiting for him.

Travis, or someone even remotely like Travis, had never been part of Beck's dream future.

Still, he was here now, and Beck supposed it was worth risking a bit of property damage if it meant increasing the odds that Travis was going to stick around.

Besides, he was all paid up on his insurance.

 

"Yeah, so," Travis said, two hours later. They'd given him a blanket. "Sorry?"

"I should kill you," Beck said. He didn't mean it, of course. The damage had already been done; no point in locking the stable-door after the steed had been stolen. "What were you trying to do, anyway?"

"Cooking a delicious meal for someone very special." Beck glared. Travis grinned at him. "What, you honestly believed I was going to give it up just like that? Better men than you have tried, my friend. They, too, failed miserably."

"Well, I appreciate the thought." Beck stared at the restaurant. It no longer seemed to be as much on fire as it had seemed five minutes ago. He hoped that was a good sign. "Someone very special, huh?"

"So I was thinking, maybe I could try again back at the apartment? I mean, smaller kitchen, less chance of accidentally setting something on fire, right?"

"Wrong." Beck put a hand on Travis's shoulder. "Come on, let's go home. We'll get some take-out."

"Sweet. You're buying?"

"Guess again, monkey boy."


End file.
